


promises to keep

by AnnaofAza



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff, Honeymoon, Introspection, M/M, Pre-Kerberos Mission, Secret Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:54:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22928305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaofAza/pseuds/AnnaofAza
Summary: People would say it was hasty, that they were too young and their futures too uncertain. But they were just getting their plans started earlier than they thought.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 95





	promises to keep

They could have gotten married at one of their favorite hiking spots, where a perfect arc drank in the sun and allowed shadows to spill over the cliff.

 _My pop said the people who lived here, long before any of…everything, told time by this place,_ Keith said to him once. He’d been perched up against one of the cave-like crevices, rays of the setting sun golden-pink on his face, and watching a bunch of kids scampering close to the edge and getting yanked back by their parents. Shiro could stare forever at the shrouded palm trees and clustered bushes, the city lights far away from the red sands, the shallow hollows in the ground that used to be filled with water, yet his favorite view was Keith, entranced as the yellow-orange sun sank into the sand.

But it was almost always full of tourists, for its beauty and for its ability to stand through three world wars. Shiro had to wear sunglasses and a baseball cap, while Keith basked in his own anonymity and took pictures on his datapad, even a few cheesy selfies.

This place was better. This was their sanctuary, away from the burdens and pressures and expectations. There was no talk of sneers or taunts, of loneliness and moving from place to place, the years Shiro may have left. Instead, they could revel in domesticity—Keith stirring boxed macaroni and cheese on the gas stovetop, Shiro checking on the tree that still had the frayed rope of a tire swing, them laying together with their knees touching on the couch.

Sometimes, Keith would be able to get crackling music from the old radio and they would dance. Sometimes, they would take out blankets and lay underneath the dizzying sight of stars. Sometimes, they would just stay in and make slow, lazy love with the blinds open. 

He wished he’d carried Keith over the threshold, but they had been desperate to get inside, hungry for hands and more than teasing touches, so much so that they left their bikes standing near the cliffside and ignored the purr of a jeep engine and Matt’s laughter. Keith had ripped some stitches off his jacket, he remembers, and Shiro himself had nearly tripped over the small pile of clothes. He’d laid his hands on Keith’s bare back, feeling the muscles tense and relax, wondering if the ring was pressing uncomfortably into Keith’s skin. Keith’s too-long bangs had tickled his nose, left hand clenched in a fist to keep the ring from sliding off.

He thinks he’s lost one of the buttons on his jacket, that it clattered to the floor without either of them noticing. He’ll have to find it later.

One day, it wouldn’t matter: Keith would get settled into an officer position, and they'd be co-pilots on the next exploration and retire here in between missions. They could fix the roof that leaked in fits and spurts on monsoon days, plant a garden near the tree ( _in this heat?_ Keith always retorted), store more in the pantry and fridge than cans of beans and sleeves of crackers. Shiro could take off his jacket and hang them on one of the hooks by the doorway ( _who’s going to install them? You’re no handyman_ ), or simply crash onto the bed first thing ( _which needs a better mattress)_. He can see Keith in the yard with his shirt off, pounding nails or wiping his forehead, gurgling a whole bottle of water underneath the desert sun.

And—he imagines—have a real wedding. Keith doesn’t care so much about the ceremony than the chance to show them off, he knows—and that’s the only detail he has in mind. The food, the decorations, the guest list—they’d figure it out. For now, they have their rings, their signatures—the one Keith’ll have to mail into the register’s office later, he thinks. He wishes he would be around to see the looks on everyone’s faces, especially Iverson’s.

People would say it was hasty, that they were too young and their futures too uncertain. But they were just getting their plans started earlier than they thought.

They could install air conditioning for the summer, or haggle for an apartment at headquarters. They could have joint offices, with nameplates on their desks, and tease each other during committee meetings. They could explore beyond their galaxy in a ship of their own, be free amongst the stars.

A coyote howls in the distance. They’re loners, and Shiro wonders if they’ll get to see one near the house. Maybe Keith will even adopt one; he laughs silently at the thought.

There’s a sort of lawlessness about this whole area—stretching on with no one for miles. Or not quite lawlessness—more wildness, maybe, or freedom—and not in the way the Garrison preaches. It reminds him of Keith, all sharp edges and soft eyes and fiery spirit and gentle hands. Of laughter that can stretch for miles. Of _something_ in Shiro’s chest, as boundless and unending as the wide open sky.

He feels it when Keith slaps the mouth of a cup over a stray scorpion, whisks a plate over it, and gingerly carries it outside. He feels it when Keith looks back on his hoverbike with a smirk and a twist of his wrist on the clutch. He feels it when Keith lays his head on his chest, arms draped and legs tangled with his.

Keith’s still nestled underneath his arm, and Shiro doesn’t dare move, break the spell, remind both of them they have obligations other than themselves.

Tomorrow was lift-off. Tomorrow was Kerberos. Tomorrow was full of possibilities.

The stars are calling, and he must go.

**Author's Note:**

> _The woods are lovely, dark and deep / But I have promises to keep / and miles to go before I sleep. / And miles to go before I sleep._


End file.
